Battle of Wits
by Michaela Will
Summary: Perspectives and the story of the skills behind the battle between Peacemillion and Libra Dorothy Catalonia and Quatre Raberba Winner. Dialogue from Ep 44 ?. Spoiler Warning. Uses a deep reading of the Gundam Universe and its concepts including Newtype.


"But this is . . . No way!" Howard exclaimed vehemently. Heero was mildly amused by the man's reaction. Considering everything, this was less incredulity than he'd expected. Howard would do it, though. He'd mastered Zero enough to know that he could get the old man to install that thing. The real trick would be getting the pilot to accept the idea. He would have to turn to the Zero system of his own choice. Otherwise, he wouldn't master it.

"Quatre can handle that." Heero answered tonelessly. Howard studied his face for a moment, as if he would glean anything new from Heero's expression if he looked hard enough.

"I see . . ." Maybe he did see something in Heero's face, or his eyes, or something, "Okay. I'll do it."

_

* * *

_

_Battle of Wits_

by Michaela Wills

* * *

"Heero!" I cried out as Wing Zero shot ahead. If I really, truly could have screamed in frustration at that moment, I would have. However, everything the he said made strategic sense. The only suit with the capacity to keep Epyon occupied and off the path of completely decimating Peacemillion is Wing Zero and the only suit that can keep Wing Zero from creating considerable damage to Libra is Epyon. These two suits must stalemate each other, so each side is safe from an overwhelming force on the opposing team. Meaning the real battle is the rest of us: The mobile dolls and the other four Gundams. Duo's voice broke through the intercom system.

"We'll take good care of 'em!" The glee in his voice is unmistakable. He's going to run in fighting, without any thought. It won't do us any good if he does that. We just barely scraped through the last battle with these dolls. Miss Noin is right and the others do know it, there was something different about the mobile dolls in that last fight. Which means the mobile dolls we are facing now are on the same system or a better one. We need to work together. Duo can't rush off ahead.

"Hang on! From a strategic point of view, Heero has to go fight Epyon, but we need a strategic plan of our own." Good: they're listening maybe they're . . .

"They're here!" WuFei's voice echoed over the intercom just before Altron shot off, Heavyarms' verniers kicking in right behind him.

"Hey WuFei! Trowa!" I sighed. They simply aren't grasping the concept. I thought they would realize the problem after the first fight with these advanced mobile dolls. This display, however, makes me think otherwise. What am I to do?

I look out over the endless supply of mobile dolls. The White Fang's full force probably isn't even out here. When we've gained some ground, it's very plausible a second wave of mobile dolls will be sent out. We need to operate as a team. Why don't they get that? It's so frustrating.

I look off to the left into the silence of deep space. No suits and no colonies, just an endless expanse of stars. Outer space needs to be more like that: Silent and peaceful, without bright lights or harsh metallic sounds. We are ruining the beauty and serenity of space. I turn to the glittering mobile dolls and the seemingly endless supply of the monstrosities. Each one is a point of light, letting off it's own little fire from the vernier engines. I sigh deeply. The monitor gives me a full count of 3,582 within Sandrock's greatest targeting range. This afternoon will be a long one.

* * *

I allow a wry smile to cross my features. I cannot see it and neither can anyone else, but I know it's there. My fingertips graze the complex keyboard before me, tabbing the sensitive icons. I can feel the lights around me, but not see them. My eyes are somewhere else. I see with eyes that are vastly different and more penetrating than my own. Who would have known what a majestic tool had been created for mankind? I, if no one else, am ready for the future this machine will offer me. I speak to myself, no one else.

"Mr. Milliardo is a true genius. This way, even the soulless mobile dolls are able to fight with the mind of a human being." This is my chance. I was denied the right to fly a mobile suit because of my status, and Romafeller rank, but this will be even greater. I'll control a whole army with my barest thought. My eyes slide in and out of focus, touching on the extrasensory that the system offers me and coming back to see the displays in front of me. "Now my dear mobile dolls. Let's see a spectacular dance!"

I can't help the feral smile as I push the suits off into combat. The feeling is so satisfying and thrilling. I never imagined anything like this system. I can see the possibilities and the effects of my actions before I take them. They all spread out before me: a multitude of choices and endless variations on the same movements. It's like . . . nothing I've ever encountered.

It's premonition and clairvoyance at the same time and at my will. I remember reading about such things and scoffing at the idea. It was all stories, that people could open their minds and use latent portions with such effects. I've read books on the theories, but I've never seen enough evidence to prove their existence. One particular theory that intrigued me for the longest time is newtype. It suggests that space dwellers will develop extrasensory abilities because of their ties with outer space. A man living around the time that the Colonies were founded wrote it. I have never seen much to substantiate that particular theory however.

I remember how jealous it made me. All those lucky kids growing up in space, while I'm stuck here on the Earth. I wished I had the opportunity to develop newtype ability. Why should only kids growing up in outer space be able to glean newtype ability?

I laugh. Newtypes are still just theories and here I am, with the extension of a miraculous piece of machinery, experiencing the very things that a newtype child would have. Hah! Time to overcome more odds. The Gundam pilots won't even realize what's coming.

I cleverly manipulate the mobile dolls, breaking them up into units. Approximately, hmmm, 3000 mobile dolls to a unit: An extra 450 in this unit and 200 more in that one. I'll drop 50 off of the first two units and add the full 100 to the last one. No use making them easy to count. This way, each unit will be harder to identify. Now for what action each will take.

An amused smile takes over my features. Poor Miss Relena, she must really be suffering. All locked up in the officers' quarters, unable to stop the fighting. I feel extremely poetic at the moment, whimsy and irony touching my heart. I think this moment will be all the more bittersweet for dear Miss Relena. If only she could appreciate what I'm going to do with my mobile dolls! The dance will not be a new one, but a reprise of one that I rapturously watched not all that long ago.

I can hear my laughter echoing around the spherical room. What a grand battle this will be!

* * *

Everything is in order. One final status check of Wing Zero before this gets underway. Zero has to be operating at peak performance levels, now more than ever. Good. All operations are nominal. 

I look away from the multiple operations screens and out the front glass panel into the endless void of space. From here I can see a crimson flash of light fast approaching. Epyon. I open lines of communication. I need to know what he's thinking. Zechs and I are evenly matched and his mind works in the same ways as mine, but I can't read minds. I need every opportunity I have to try and figure out what his next move will be. This is when Zero is the best partner I can ask for.

The audible click tells me all I need to know. Zechs is within range of communication. And also, in close combat firing range. The internal speakers crackle with energy as I watch Epyon carefully for signs of his first attack. As Epyon careens towards Zero I hear his husky voice over the massless space.

"Let's get started." The Epyon is primed for battle. So is Zero.

"I'm here." The high pitch ring of weapon on weapon ricochets through Zero and into my ears. One parry and the two of us are already locked tightly in battle. Glaring across the expanse, attached into the ultimate lie detector, the time has come for a perfunctory interrogation. "I want to know what you are up to. Why are you starting these battles?"

His answer is a harsh, throaty growl, "To end all battles!"

The eminent stalemate continues as the interrogation ends. That is answer enough for me. I know what his words mean: For him, for me, and even for Trieze Kushrenada.

* * *

I watch the other pilots out of the corners of my eyes, trying desperately to observe everything at once. WuFei's so far ahead and above me I can hardly watch him, Trowa's slightly below me on the other side, and Duo's below me to the right. I know that Miss Noin is behind me somewhere. 

I have my perception flung out in all directions and I'm still trying to keep the mobile dolls at bay. It isn't the best idea to get into close combat this early in the game, not for Sandrock. Better to use the amazingly tight defense system for now and start the close combat fighting once my firepower is exhausted.

Out of the corner of my eye I watch as Trowa tears apart a formation with a spray of bullets through the center and right flank. Duo and Deathscythe are already taking on a leading squad in close combat. The leaders to that division are almost completely gone. WuFei however, just took a strong hit from close quarters. Altron, although a Gundam, isn't built to take that kind of pressure. Only Sandrock is really built for that kind of power in a close assault. He'll be fine, as will Altron, but too many hits like that will cause problems and it's too early to be taking unnecessary risks. WuFei's all by himself far into the mobile doll advance. We need to stick together, no matter how fiercely independent the other pilots are.

It's almost frustrating how stubborn they are about working alone, especially WuFei and Trowa! Honestly, they will be the first to get themselves killed if they aren't careful. What was it Trowa said to me when we first met in San Francisco? Oh yes: I can do it alone. Yesh. At least Heero recognizes the need for organization and teamwork. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't know I have his support.

I flick my communication line open. I toggle the microphone and call across the ratio band.

"WuFei! Come back here for now." I take a breath, ready to explain to him why it's strategically sound for him to fall back if he protests. He's not the one to protest, however.

"Why should he? I'll go and support him."

"Duo!" I cry out. Why won't they listen? To retain a field advantage we can't go into their formation's center and fight our way out, it's not sound. It makes more sense to stay where we have our backs clear if at all possible. I'm sure that's what Miss Noin is doing; she understands teamwork and is making sure that no unit comes on us from behind.

"Whoops!" I can hear the chuckle in Duo's voice. I know that he realizes that this is serious, but I don't think he's realized how dire the situation is.

"We're not getting anywhere! We've got to get into some kind of formation." We have the keep our backs clear and somehow get an advantage, an edge. We have to somehow surprise the mobile dolls, misdirection, but how? The other Gundams aren't working with me. They aren't listening. They won't listen!

I sigh, what else can I do but continue on? I can't use the ZERO system . . . can I? No! It's not an option. Heero's wrong, I just can't do it. We have to manage without the ZERO system. We must!

* * *

I chuckle with glee; this is wonderful! The act of controlling so much at once is thrilling and euphoric. I can't imagine how this can compare to fighting a mobile suit in person, but this must be better. There's no fear; just the pure, unadulterated adrenaline rush from being so many places at once. However, I can't toy with them forever, I do have a job to do. I've played long enough and now it's time to show those pilots that they cannot just win the war for the colonies. The colonies have to fight for peace themselves as does the Earth! 

"Now, let's change our plan. We'll isolate each one of the Gundams, and destroy them separately." I smile as I manipulate the mobile dolls. Watching the proceedings, I see none of the pilots understand this tactic. All they see is suits, suits everywhere to destroy. They don't realize that I'm herding them like sheep into position, putting them where they are most vulnerable: as far from any other Gundam as possible. I'll concentrate on HeavyArms first. When the suit runs out of firepower, it'll be the first to go. Then Sandrock. Then if the Deathsycthe and Altron are sufficiently separated I won't have to worry about them getting the upper hand. So I'll treat each as a member of the Peacecraft's four wings: the left and right and the center two. I take out the center two first and surround the others so that they can't escape easily. The upgraded Altron and Deathsycthe will act as the Peacecraft wings and the other two will be the doubled middle company. Oh! How I wish Relena could appreciate the subtlety of this act I create!

The Gundams begin their motion, led blindly by the sheer number of suits to destroy. They still don't see it! Oh, this is so amusing! The HeavyArms must be getting low on firepower. . . .

I look more carefully, suddenly, at the movements of the Gundams. They aren't moving as I predicted they would . . .

"What's this? They've come up with a strategy!"

* * *

I sigh and look over the battlefield one more time. The mobile suits are changing patterns. I can see it from this distance from the central forces. WuFei and Duo have no chance to see it, or what is coming in their direction. So much for misdirection: the mobile dolls are the ones manipulating us. It is a cruel and ironic turn of events. At least with human beings in the suits one can say the opponents were smarter, but this cannot happen in the sea of mindless toys. 

If we were a team and not a fragmented contingent of rebels, maybe it would have been different. Damn you Heero! I didn't want to be pushed into this, but I see why he did it now.

"This isn't working. We're going to get totaled." I take a deep breath and attach the monitor to the skin of my upper right arm. One by one I input the series of keys.

- Z E R O -

I feel the electric jolt as the system integrates with my body. It's a necessary step usually done through the suit helmet, but that is what the monitor on my arm replaces. The world tilts and spins suddenly and I'm falling.

Air! Must breathe, must . . .

Stars. Millions of them twinkling contentedly in the distance. But there are other lights too. It is the sight of sunlight, the blinks and winks of the colonies. Closer still, the glare of light reflecting from metal.

I see them all, from every angle and from every perspective. I see the dolls in the most real aspect of what they are. To me too, they really are now dolls and nothing more. They don't threaten me from here.

Movement is slowly becoming apparent. The feed rushes through the system, the new oxygen for me is the battle data that human eyes cannot read. Estimates are made as my partner stores the information for me. All I must do is assess.

Trajectory is established and patterns become clear. Perception alters, shifting by the moment and giving new insight from each Gundam's perspective, the surrounding satellites and from the view of the Peacemillion.

Hypotheses develop. I break them down, look at each between the blinks of my eyes and assess.

No.

No.

No.

Yes!

This matches! I remember and I know this is right.

* * *

"Miss Noin! Miss Noin!" My heart had jumped into my throat, pounding there deeply. I gasp for breath around the knot tightly formed there. The beam sabre holds the renegade doll that broke through the ranks during my distraction. The sword is deactivated and the now useless scrap of metal begins to float away. I can here Miss Noin panting through the open channel. 

"It's exactly the same," She chokes out; I can hear the anger and pain running through her voice. This wasn't an easy battle for her to begin with, I know. I know deeply how much being out here hurts her. Her voice again penetrates the static. "It's just like the attack on the Sank Kingdom."

* * *

Images of the latter half of the battles at Sank come to mind. The system accesses these thoughts, clarifying them, maps develop, tactics applied are listed chronologically, memories are turned into calculating, unfeeling numbers and diagrams. They blink on the screens to my left and right, leaving the majority of my visual field open. 

I avoid engaging the enemy as I continue to work down to where in the scheme of the battle on Sank this current fight has reached. There! This is the junction, it must be.

My lips twitch slightly in an approximation of that evil smile I see through my visual screens when Heero is enjoying battle. I know I'm edging towards that grin, I can see the visualization through the monitors of the other Gundams. None of them are paying any attention to my air silence, though. They can't see as I can right now. Trowa, Duo, WuFei, and Miss Noin are fighting for their lives.

My goals are slightly different at the moment.

My partner has picked apart the crucial junction that the battle before me is caught at. Options are laced across the screens, flashing as quickly through my mind as I analyze, this time paying careful attention to the next stage of the attack on Sank's result. How to counter that and leave many openings for myself and the other pilots?

I toggle the microphone activation and raise my voice.

"WuFei!"

* * *

My eyes widen as I hear a voice over the monitors. Damn things, what does Quatre want now? I knew these monitors were an annoying and useless gesture. How am . . . I . . . to . . . fight . . . with Quatre distracting me? 

The vocal timbre in his tone suddenly strikes me. I know something is different, I can sense it. I can feel it all the way through me and in the very air. I didn't spend all my life studying anything and everything I could lay my hands on to forget psychology the minute it becomes useful.

My eyes flicker to the visual monitor. Maybe these things do have their uses. Quatre stares back at me, eyes intent with a light I've never seen before. He is unyielding and completely confident as he continues to speak.

"Fly right through the enemy troops."

"Huh?" I find the non-phrase slipping out of my mouth before I can control it. He's not making any sense, this is totally unlike him, Quatre prefers a defensive strategy by his nature, not open, physically aggressive combat. He's different; he's seeing something I'm not. His voice exudes conviction.

"The rest of us will direct fire to where WuFei was." The proverbial light bulb from Maxwell's social milieu flips on. I see that he's doing. I hear Maxwell's voice come through the monitors.

"Huh? Quatre?"

Hmph! Baka-American doesn't get it. He will. With a battle cry I throw Nataku through the ranks of metal and steel toys. I'm glad I never underestimated the Sandrock pilot. He's like Trieze; the most dangerous weapon he has isn't a sword or machine like Duo's, but what lies between his ears. The skill with mechanics is simply a more lethal bonus.

* * *

There! The mobile doll's programming has been interrupted. Now to take the opening created. The Zero system feeds the new trajectories and engine outputs to me, recalculates positions and the variants from the Sank precedent. Now if the mobile dolls were to follow the Sank attack program, this, yes this would be the next course of action. And to counter that, we simply reverse the dividing attempts by remaining focused to one side and force a flank. Good, WuFei has begun a movement to return, he's getting it. I knew he'd catch on quickly. 

"The enemy is made up of a number of units. Now is our chance to defeat those units one at a time." I pause, letting this sink in. The most demanding assault positions are center, so the stronger hand-to-hand positions there, where the left flank may end up being engaged. The suits better at range fighting and defense beyond them, where they can snipe the left wing, but not worry about hand-to-hand engagement as much. That way they can split their concentration to their side and random shots to the loose flank. "Trowa, attack the troops on the upper right side. Then destroy the front unit, Duo and WuFei."

I wait while they assimilate the data I've given them. The logic of having this arrangement sinks in quickly. They know their suits best capabilities and limits even better than I do.

"Roger."

"Gotcha!"

"Now there's a good plan!"

I squelch the urge to smile at WuFei's approval as I flick off the microphone. Sweat beads on my forehead. My partner is already refiguring the incoming data on the changes in the field. I can see the disintegration of the center units and Trowa is eating away at the upper right. I move Sandrock to the lower right and begin working through the mobile dolls there. Yet my concentration is split. I have to continue to assess the incoming data, the hypotheses that the Zero system makes and negate some of the more extreme or unfeasible ones. I have to think as I act and analyze the next pattern before I finish the first.

This is what destroyed me last time I tried to use the Zero system. I wasn't able to split my concentration and think for the Zero system, so it started doing the analyses for me. To work properly, the system needs that analysis to continue to the next step. If I don't supply it, Zero will and keep going.

It's a complex system. The split concentration eats at me, my head begins to pound with a throbbing headache. Even remembering to breathe gets lost in the jumble of mental processes and I begin panting for breath. It is a mentally exhausting workout, now taking a physical toll on my body.

"I can't let the system control me. The only choice now is to master the system."

* * *

"I don't understand! The Gundams are predicting each of my moves!" My mind is overloaded by the sudden changes taking place before me, but even I can see, without the heightened senses, that the Gundams aren't my toys anymore. Something out there has changed; they know how I'm planning this assault. How? How do they know? I move to the next stage in the Sank attack, but it is countered, and very skillfully too. The way that I would have if I were in Relena's troops. I'm at a disadvantage as things stand. 

Other options filter into my mind, flickering from one perspective to another. I pick one, as different from the Sank plans as I can imagine, they've figured that one out. It's time for something new anyway. The mobile dolls begin moving into the new formation, and I see the outlines of my plan forming.

HeavyArms skids away from the hypothesized trajectory, Sandrock moves forward to take the brunt of the volley while the Deathscythe and Altron flank and bite into the form from the side instead of entering from the front.

I mutter to myself and try something else. Again, the movement must have been analyzed because before the mobile dolls could do much damage, the Gundams were reconfiguring into a more appropriate formation to counter my plans. I slam my hand against the screen. I did not plan on playing chess here! I have no idea who I'm playing with either, who?

"How come? What's happening?" I take a deep breath, shaky as it is, and try to calm down. The system feeds more visuals and concepts to me. I shove the projections viciously aside. I have something bigger to worry about. One of the pilots is countering me; one is leading them. They're usually too fragmented in different combat patterns to be doing this of their own volition without a guiding force. "Who's doing this? Who could it be?"

Chang WuFei. Quatre Raberba Winner. Trowa Barton. Duo Maxwell. Heero Yuy.

I crack into Epyon's beautiful system and start working through it.

Zechs and Heero Yuy are already using the system to fight each other, so Heero can't possibly be watching two battles at once. As good a pilot as Heero is; he's not a strategist and these chess games are not his style. He cannot be fighting purely with Zechs and maintaining control over the other Gundams in battle.

Duo Maxwell wouldn't know strategy if it bit off that stupid braid of his. He's one who couldn't plan maneuvers of this complexity. His style is established; run into the thick of things and force his way through talent and fighting capabilities. He would not use the differences in the suits to his advantage like this. To him, one Gundam is much like the other, except the Zero. The leader must be using Zero and I remember the reports of Duo's experience with it. He would not use it.

Trowa Barton. The thought of my game being with him is laughable. I know what happened to him all too well. His tendency to get distracted by companions makes this one improbable. He's also too used to following orders, he wouldn't use this kind of flexibility in battle were he the one leading. Without direct orders, Trowa crumbles under the weight of making decisions. I'd say the boy has a fifty-fifty shot of picking a manner that actually works well if he's on his own to design an attack. Too used to following orders and not seeing the big picture and results.

That leaves Chang Wufei and Quatre Raberba Winner. Both are capable of leading an attack. WuFei was a scholar, I read his file too, so he has the mental capabilities to create a complex web of attacks and counterattacks the leader has displayed. Quatre has also proven in his ability to do this. Both have used the Zero system before, and I know the leader is using the system; they have to be. How it got into the Altron or Sandrock I don't know. So where's the breakdown? Where's the difference in their capabilities. How did they know I was following the example set by the destruction of the Sank Kingdom?

The Zero system catches this thought, and weaves it into my knowledge of the events of Sank. Suddenly I know. WuFei was in outer space during the Sank attack. Quatre was there.

"It must be Quatre Raberba Winner."

* * *

I watch as the alterations begin. Finally, we gained the upper hand over the mobile dolls and the trajectories shifted from the predicted patterns. Again, the system begins the arduous task of collecting minute data and turning it into concepts, ideas, and hypotheses. The formation takes seconds and I'm surprised by the results. This is nothing like the Sank attack. I immediately draw up the best diagram of countering moves. The system checks the alterations and wheels an affirmative back at me. 

I toggle the microphone and hurriedly spill the changes back to the other pilots. Duo mutters, but concedes after he hears WuFei's immediate consent, and Trowa's grunt as he veers hard away from the frontline. I don't bother closing the communication line as I bring Sandrock into a more active position, covering the defensively weaker Taurus and HeavyArms suits.

Within a few moments my partner is feeding the positive results of my change back to me. The numbers of mobile dolls again begin to drop, but only for a moment before hypothesized patterns disintegrate and create new trajectories.

I repeat the pattern, but I'm already beginning to branch into another train of thought. If I believed two conscious thought processes were tough, the third is excruciatingly painful. I can hardly think about my body as I move to a rear guard position, analyze the incoming feedback and start trying to decipher these quick shifts in the patterns of the mobile dolls. They can't be programmed to react to the battlefield like this. There's no technology sophisticated enough for that.

"The movements of these mobile dolls aren't just programmed. Someone's changing their tactics based on the actual battle." I groan as another set of deviations fall through the circuitry. My nerves are on fire as I work to keep up the strain. My body can't handle this for that much longer. It will have to end soon! "Got to predict them!"

Wait!

"Someone's controlling these mobile dolls." Think! they started with the Sank battle. Who was at the Sank battle and could replicate the attacks and forms used there?

Myself, Heero, Miss Noin, are accounted for against Libra's efforts. Zechs is too busy with Epyon to be controlling the mobile dolls. Fighting Heero, even with the enhancement systems, is completely mind-consuming. Relena wouldn't, even if she understood battle tactics. Rashid and the Maguanacs aren't here.

"Dorothy Catalonia." She was there and she's skilled enough to use the Sank data! I didn't know where she was before, but now I do. She must be on Libra.

I check. Using my partner as a springboard, I mentally hop on board the Libra. Drawn by the Siren song of another mind gestalt I find my way to a room off the main control deck. There she is, lights flickering across the half mask glowing with the eerie light of technology. I can hear the feedback as the other system acknowledges my presence and makes her aware of it. Mentally she turns to see my self-projected form. She knows somehow there will be nothing to see with her eyes.

Her self-projection glows as does mine as we stare at each other. Yes, she knew it was me. This is only the confirmation of what our partners had told us both. The mouth is drawn in a tight frown and she emanates the strain she's beginning to feel from the system. This cannot be good . . .

* * *

The Epyon system forces my attention back, screaming I'm not alone. It forces my perception to the doorway of the room. 

He's glowing. I've never seen a human glow like this before. I suppose he's not surprised to see me here. In fact, I know that's why I can see him; he came looking for me. Why I don't know. I don't even know how he can do that; be here when his body, his Gundam are somewhere else. Sure, he's used the Zero system before, but none of the reports suggest the user's ability to . . . I don't even know what to call this.

The system launches through ideas, still calculating battle plans on the side. Simultaneously, the system reaches three conclusions:

He's newtype.

He can play chess with me forever.

There is only one way to win left.

He won't lose his pawns, for they aren't pawns. The Gundams are knights or rooks, castles or bishops. We are the queens. I only have pawns. Pawns that will die and fall off, for one on one, what pawn can take out a bishop? Without boundaries or limits, the pawn can't win.

It's poker and I need to find an ace somewhere. Otherwise, this will end, and I will lose. He's newtype! My God! What fire I've been playing with here! I search him over. Empathy, figures, I should have known it was empathy. Yet he's here and not out there in the vastness of space fighting. Can I use that?

I can hear his mental processes through the ringing of the two systems. They are so similar that these, like radio frequencies, are audible across each other with him right there, however he has done it. I hear him giving the Zero system in Sandrock mental commands, continuing to analyze and work with the system as he stands here. Sandrock continues to fight, not nearly as engaged as the others. His image flickers and he holds it in place. He's too stretched out to think completely clearly! The distance from Sandrock to Libra is creating strain.

There is only one way left to win. My ace! Libra! My only chance, our only chance! The system confirms, yes, this is the only chance left. There are no other options. I stand and pull off my headgear. The image of Quatre has gone; he must have heard my system, now I must hurry. He can't counter me, he simply can't!

"Use Libra's main cannon and strike them!" The line has been left open and is suddenly active with static. I hear Quinze's disagreement, but only in the most abstract form of hearing. I can't pay his petty qualms any attention. "It's the only way to stop the Gundams."

I again hear the beginnings of his next arguments, but the remnants of the system within me are still processing information. I'm still hooked into the Epyon's system. The euphoria is now edged with fear. Is this what battle is really like? Is this feeling of helplessness real for them too? I can see the Peacemillion is starting to move. It can't, we must hit it now. I want the euphoria back.

"Just fire. It's all we can do!"

* * *

I snap back to Sandrock in an instant. She's going to fire Libra's main cannon, Zero sorts through the details of trajectory for the Libra and Peacemillion. I wanted to warn Dorothy about splitting her concentration, but it was too late before I could project the thoughts to her. Dorothy has lost to the Zero system. She'll follow it's narrow confides as I once did. For her, it is motivated by fear. Fear of losing has lead to the desperation Zero thrives on. For me it was anger and mourning that took me down that slippery slope. 

I open the line to Peacemillion.

"Please be careful! They're going to try and shoot down Peacemillion!" I respond to the Zero system and pick a course of action for the Gundams: disengage and scatter to keep from making new targets. I hear Sally yelling orders and a certain amount of panic across the Peacemillion deck. Zero collects the beginning data from Peacemillion's motion and coordinates it with Libra's. They should make it clear with only minor damage. I hope.

I toggle the communication line to the pilots, "Everyone get out of here!"

Duo's face blinks up, shock covering it, "Libra's firing their main weapon!"

HeavyArms shoots through the open path to his left, sending a volley of bullets through the mobile dolls he passes on his way out. Altron simply skids away, no parting shots at all. Duo finishes off one more suit with the Deathscythe and scampers away. The white Taurus Miss Noin uses is already clear, as am I.

I watch the cannon blast light up space as it screams through the black void. Confirmation. It missed Peacemillion by the barest of margins. I begin to separate my mind from the Zero system, thanking it for all its help. It recedes from my consciousness, filters back out through my sub and unconsciousness and out of my mind. The electricity in my veins ebbs away and I remove the monitor with a rip.

I have conquered the Zero system.

* * *

I cried out for so long, my voice and throat have gone completely dry. There was no way to unlock the bolting done to the door of the Officers Quarters from the inside, I checked thoroughly. How could Dorothy do this to me? She's so vindictive, in a backwards way. She doesn't act cruel in her manner or speech, but at the same time, she's hurting people the best way she knows how; she's the devil's advocate. And I love her for playing that role at Sank, but now . . . 

Oh Dorothy! Why now?

I feel so helpless, locked away like this. Useless is the word that comes most to mind. Romafeller discarded me for Trieze and now Dorothy has done the same. My position in this is so fragile. I must find the strength to guide these people back towards the path of peace. Otherwise it will never end. Zechs and Trieze will create war with each other, a war that will feed more hatred and cause dissention among both victors and subdued, giving madmen like Duke Dermail more strife to paint new propaganda with.

My legs have given out I'm trembling so hard. I want so badly to make them see things as I do. Peace has worked before, made a difference. It can work again. Why was Sank destroyed twice, except that peace is a threat to controlling powers? My hands continue to shake with the frustration I'm feeling. My voice feels coarse to my ears as I raise my voice, as if speaking would somehow make my goals more realistic.

"I must put an end to this meaningless battle."

* * *

Wing Zero slid into the bunker space with practiced ease. I slowly shut down the system, making sure it recedes fully from my mind. As I stand, I pat the interior and mutter a slight praise. The system is sensitive and it does merge with your mind. It is a thing to be treated with reverence and respect, even if it is a machine. I opened the hatch and lean out. 

Dorothy Catalonia, Zechs? No one I've met can control Epyon or Wing Zero on the first try. Did you believe she had a chance against the overwhelming power of the Epyon? Surely Dorothy is strong willed, but that isn't enough. If I had picked which suit to put the Zero system based on sheer willpower, it probably would have ended up in Deathscythe or Altron.

Zero isn't about willpower, though. It is about bending and flexing with the system. She tried to control it through domineering mind power. That does not work with Epyon. I cable down Wing Zero. The rest of the pilots are getting out. There's a team standing by for repairs. I can see Noin at the foot of her Taurus watching us with a satisfied smile.

Duo is running around the hangar whooping and cheering. He praises me, exalts Quatre's skill, grinning wildly as he tells the repair crew about the battle. Trowa is quiet, but there's an air of self-satisfaction that pervades. WuFei is slightly more demonstrative as he cables down Altron, yelling at Duo, radiating satisfaction with the outcome, scoffing at the uselessness of mobile dolls. Quatre is sitting on Sandrock's torso plate, legs hanging over the edge.

We've all been working out, but the strain of this excursion shows on Quatre's face like none other. I could tell how hard it was for him to control Zero like that. It's hard enough using it for two things: fighting and thinking. He had his concentration split in about four at once. His hair is plastered to his head, there's still sweat soaking his skin, even parts of his flight suit. He's still panting from exertion.

But there's a trace of a smile on his face.

Duo catches up WuFei's arm and starts dragging the stiff Asian towards the showers, claiming that WuFei fought wonderfully, but didn't he do well also? WuFei mutters a reply I couldn't hear. Duo cackles as they pass outside the airlock

"Are you alright, Quatre?" Trowa calls up to the blonde. The pilot's breath has evened a bit and he calls out his response.

"Yeah, Trowa. I'm fine, I just want to stay here a moment before cleaning up. You go ahead, you guys did really great!" Trowa nods and starts following WuFei and Duo, "Thank you Trowa." Trowa stops and turns back to the Sandrock, looking up at the smiling pilot with an indiscernible expression on his face.

"No, Quatre. Thank you." Trowa leaves. Hmph, so at least Trowa figured it out. I know WuFei did. As for Duo, I couldn't tell you, probably, but he's so good at hiding the important stuff. The hangar is all but empty now. The repair crew has retreated to a back room to start schematics and Noin left, probably to the deck or the showers. I suppose I should go shower too.

"Heero?"

I turn, when did he come down from the torso plate? Quatre is standing right there before me. He meets my eyes, a serious look on his face. He takes a step forward. He threads his thin arms under mine and presses them to the middle of my back, pulling me to him. Then just as quickly he releases me, and steps back a length away from me.

Quatre hugged me. No one's really hugged me before; not like that. I don't really know what to do. It's a very human moment in the ways that I don't think I've learned to handle.

"Thank you, Heero." He says quietly. I'm sure my face is expressionless. What I'm not sure about is why he did it. "I needed to overcome my fear, Heero, thank you for the chance." He starts walking towards the showers.

"I know you won't ask but, I was returning the favor." Quatre calls, he smiles at me winsomely over his shoulder, "You needed it."


End file.
